When I find myself inside the circle
And the filk frog comes to me
Start to sing, but I don’t have a key
And in my hour of darkness
songbook sitting here in front of me
got the words, and I must pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
Whisper words, but I should pick a key

And when the patient listening filkers
sitting in the room agree
We’ll all sing it with you, pick a key
for though it’s been misstarted
there is still a chance for harmony
we’ll all sing it with you, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
we’ll all sing it with you
pick a key, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
so you’ll all sing it with me, pick a key

and when the night is passing
there is still a chance to sing with me
sing on until tomorrow, pick a key
I stay up with the sound of music
and the filk frog comes to me
I’ll sing words and finally pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
pick a key, yeah pick a key
so you’ll all sing it with me, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
pick a key, yeah pick a key
so you’ll all sing it with me, pick a key
pick a key, pick a key
Ah pick a key, yeah pick a key
Wrote the words, and now I’ll pick a key

Rose Marshall’s riding on down the ghost roadNo moon of silver nor sun of goldWandering all through the Midnight so cold, Who would you be with if you’d grown old? Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream? Are you a travelling to see a queen? Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides, Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

Your hair was tied back and lemon juice goldYour dress was green, and your eyes were so bold. He thought to have you, but the price would be your soul, What kind of engine takes that kind of coal? Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream? Are you a travelling to see a queen? Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides, Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

When nights were warmer and your soul was young,There were so many things you would not have done,But though you dance til the last song is sungHe paid the crossroads, and now your time has come Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream? Are you a travelling to see a queen? Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides, Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

He stole a friend of yours, and he commands,That you risk everything you have to make your standBut he could never steal your power from your handAnd now there’s Bethany with her checkered flag, Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream? Are you a travelling to see a queen? Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides, Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

Highway girl, highway girl, what do you dream? Are you a travelling to see the queen? Are you a hitcher, waiting on roadsides, Or do you dream of a Sparrow Hill ride?

by Shawna Jacqueswritten about Hunger Games (by Suzanne Collins),ttto “City of Marrow” by S.J. Tucker,

which is written for a book called Orphan’s Tales: In the Cities of Coin and Spice,by Catherynne M. Valente

Lyrics updated 03-06-2016

If you are not familiar with this book, it is a beautiful pair of books of stories within stories within stories. The story the original song is about is about a city that has fallen to ruin due to a monster comprised mostly of teeth and hunger. The city, which used to mint coins from metal, now mints coins from the bones of dead children, and they make other children work the machines. A boy and a girl stick in that wretched workforce decide to take matters into their own hands, and the boy literally feeds his own arm into the machine so they have coins for their escape. Then I read The Hunger Games, and this practically wrote itself.

(oooo intro)

You’d never know that Panem wasa different place, up until the warher city’s heart lost its wayso long, so longgone is the country, the people, the landnow hunger is all that’s in storeabove and below she has rotted away,so long, so longthe districts had calledfor Capitol fall,but now no more than twelve you will findbroken shattered wallsno one there at allgone to ashes and wasteland and lost timebakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughtersmust take their own lives to handI have been through the games of hunger,and I have come out again.(so) Fear for the lives they’re wastingtheir Reaper may come for youthere’s only one victor, so try to winthey’re counting on you to pull throughor the Hunger Games may take them, too.(ohhh, oh, I volunteerohhh, oh, I volunteer)Truly, we’ve lost our great nationthat hunger has all but devouredI look to my mother but I’m all aloneno one looks after the kids now

(ohhh, oh, I volunteerohhh, oh, I volunteer)

There can be no hope for our nationwhile President Snow is in powerThe odds aren’t in favorOf me or of you

there’s only the Games now,there’s only the blame now…

Fear for the lives they’re wastingtheir Reaper may come for youthere’s only one victor, so try to winthey’re counting on you to pull through, oh…

Fear for the lives they’re wastingtheir Reaper may come for youthere’s only one victor, so try to winthey’re counting on you to pull throughor the Hunger Games may take them, too.

bakers’ sons and coal miners’ daughtersmust take their own lives to handfear now the Games of Hungeryou may not come out again.I have been through the Games of Hungerand I have come out again.

Fear for the lives they’re wastingtheir Reaper may come for youthere’s only one victor, so try to winthey’re counting on you to pull throughthe Hunger Games must someday end, too.

Tis the week of Valentine’s Day. I should respond to it with the traditional dose of bile, but my heart isn’t in it. Almost everything about Valentine’s day is shite: the pressure applied to couples, the loneliness and inadequacy foisted on to the singles, the rampant commercialisation, and above all the rose tinted and sickly portrait of love that the day has come to promote and represent. Still, an entire day (and a saint) dedicated to erotic love can’t be all bad.

Poem of the week is therefore ‘Every Day You Play’ by that Nobel winning Chilean love guru Pablo Neruda, notable for including possibly the sexiest final line of a poem ever written…

Every Day You Play (Pablo Neruda)

Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water. You are more than this white head that I hold…

I am tired of people saying that it’s “up to each individual to decide whether or not they’re offended”. That is essentially saying “It’s your problem if you are offended by this shitty thing I or someone else did that hurts you”, rather than “Wow, I or that person/group said/did an offensive/terrible thing, that sucks, how can I help?” Saying that it’s “up to each individual”, in this manner, is a non-answer, a “this isn’t my problem so I’m not dealing with it, la la la” answer.

No. Just no.

Wake up. It is EVERYONE’S problem when society and individuals treat certain people as less-than, less deserving of kindness, dignity, rights, and more. It is EVERYONE’S problem when someone gets denied their rights, raped, assaulted, murdered, attacked, harassed, and more. It is EVERYONE’S problem that there are people with no where to go and nothing to eat.

Let’s not be shitty to each other, shall we? The world is bettered when there’s less of this garbage going around.